purpose in that, regardless. Bink could challenge her on it, but that would still not give away the right location; there were a thousand potential spots. So probably she meant what she said: she had tried to fool Trent, and had not succeeded.
So the balance in Bink's mind shifted; now he believed she was from Xanth and she had not betrayed it. That was what the available evidence suggested. How complex could Trent's machinations become? Maybe he had a Mundane machine that could somehow pick up news from inside the Shield. Or-more likely!-he had a magic mirror set up in the magic zone just outside the Shield, so he could learn interior news. No-in that case he could have ascertained the location of the Shieldstone directly. Bink felt dizzy. He didn't know what to think-but he certainly wasn't going to mention the key location.
'I wasn't exiled, if that's what you're thinking,' Fanchon said. 'They don't yet ban people for being ugly. I emigrated voluntarily.'
'Voluntarily? Why?'
'Well, I had two reasons.'
'What two reasons?'
She looked at him. 'I'm afraid you would not believe either one.'
'Try me and see.'
'First, the Magician Humfrey told me it was the simplest solution to my problem.'
'What problem?' Bink was hardly in a good mood.
She gave him another straight look that mounted to a stare. 'Must I spell it out?'
Bink found himself reddening. Obviously her problem was her appearance. Fanchon was a young woman, but she was not plain, not homely, but ugly-the living proof that youth and health were not necessarily beauty. No clothing, no makeup could help her nearly enough; only magic could do it. Which seemed to make her departure from Xanth nonsensical. Was her judgment as warped as her body?
Faced with the social necessity of changing the subject, he fixed on another objection, an aspect of his thought: 'But there's no magic in Mundania.'
'Precisely.'
Again his logic stumbled. Fanchon was as difficult to talk with as to look at. 'You mean-magic makes you-what you are?' What a marvel of tact he demonstrated!
But she did not chide him for his lack of social grace. 'Yes, more or less.'
'Why didn't Humfrey charge you-his fee?'
'He couldn't stand the sight of me.'
Worse and worse. 'Uh-what was your other reason for leaving Xanth?'
'That I shall not tell you at this time.'
It figured. She had said he wouldn't believe her reasons, and he had believed the first one, so she wouldn't tell him the other. Typically female logic.
'Well, we seem to be prisoners together,' Bink said, glancing around the pit again. It remained as dismal as ever. 'Do you think they're going to feed us?'
'Certainly,' Fanchon said. 'Trent will come around and dangle bread and water at us, and ask which one would like to give him the information. That one will be fed. It will become increasingly difficult to turn him down as time passes.'
'You have a gruesomely quick comprehension.'
'I am gruesomely smart,' she said. 'In fact, it is fair to say I am as smart as I am ugly.'
Yes indeed. 'Are you smart enough to figure out how to get out of here?'
'No, I don't think escape is possible,' she said, shaking her head in a definite yes.
'Oh,' Bink said, taken aback. Her words said no, her gesture said yes. Was she crazy? No-she knew the guards were listening, though they were out of sight. So she sent them one message while sending Bink another. Which meant she had figured out an escape already.
It was now afternoon. A shaft of sunlight spilled through the grate, finding its route past the edge of the roof. Just as well, Bink thought; it would get unbearably dank in here if the sun never reached the bottom.
Trent came to the grate. 'I trust you two have made your acquaintance?' he said pleasantly. 'Are you hungry?''
'Now it comes,' Fanchon muttered.
'I apologize for the inconvenience of your quarters,' Trent said, squatting down with perfect aplomb. It was as if he were meeting them in a clean office. 'If you both will give me your word not to depart these premises or interfere with our activities in any way, I shall arrange a comfortable tent for you.'
'Therein lies subversion,' Fanchon said to Bink. 'Once you start accepting favors, you become obligated. Don't do it.'
She was making extraordinary sense. 'No deal,' Bink said.
'You see,' Trent continued smoothly, 'if you were in a tent and you tried to escape, my guards would have to put arrows in you-and I don't want that to happen. It would be most uncomfortable for you, and would imperil my source of information. So it is vital that I have you confined by one means or another. By word or bond, as it were. This pit has the sole virtue of being secure.'
'You could always let us go,' Bink said. 'Since you aren't going to get the information anyway.'
